


If They Be Worthy

by Aviss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Thor, Doctor Jaime Lannister as Jane foster, F/M, Thor Brienne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-09-28 13:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20426447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: She wishes she could believe it, believe she's special and worthy, but it's impossible to imagine that a magic hammer with god-like powers has chosen big, manly, ugly Brienne to be a hero.It has.This is only the beginning of her troubles,





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw some fanart of this a few days ago and couldn't stop thinking about Thor Brienne and how she would really be worthy. So, of course, I had to write it.
> 
> Damn it, so I'm an idiot and because I decided to post this during my lunch hour, I got distracted and posted the version before edits. So here's the edited version. Sorry :(

The hammer is beautiful, there isn't another word for it; it's ornate, the filigree engraved on the metal is both intricate and delicate looking, the handle is of a dark red leather that looks soft and expensive, and there is a leather loop in the same colour at the end of the handle. 

It's also oversized and in the middle of the road.

Actually, what's in the middle of the road it's a big crater with the oversized hammer in the centre, and Brienne can't understand how it got there because the hammer might be big, but not big enough to create that kind of hole unless it had fallen from a plane.

She looks back the way she came where her car is idling, then looks in the other direction where the road stretches past it. Well, she's going to have to risk crossing the crater if she wants to make it to her destination, she has a promise to keep on the other side.

With an aggrieved sigh, Brienne goes down to the hole and grabs the handle of the hammer; she might be willing to risk it but is not enough of an idiot to leave something like that lying around ready to snag on her car's suspension and leave her stranded there, in the middle of nowhere in a backroad in the Riverlands. 

Brienne slips her right hand through the handle loop and curls her fingers around the handle, registering how buttery soft the leather is before she feels something like an electric current coursing up her arm. She shivers uncomfortably at the sensation, though it wasn't painful, not really, but now all her hair is standing on end. She pulls and feels a strange pull back as if the hammer is refusing to budge right before it comes off the ground. The moment she straightens with the hammer in her hand, though, she can hear the crash of lighting around and there is something like a sandstorm around her, wind buffeting her from every side. 

She hears some words in her head, loud and echoing, the voice deep and regal. "_Whosoever holds this hammer, if they be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor_." Brienne looks around to confirm she's alone, and then looks down at the hammer and there is a symbol glowing on the side that wasn't there a moment ago, and she opens her fingers to let the hammer drop as if it's burned her palm but the thing doesn't, just stays floating and defying the laws of gravity and common sense. 

She clamps her fingers around the handle again because she can't be seeing a floating, glowing hammer.

There is something else defying the laws of common sense, and Brienne has to close her eyes when she realizes her sensible clothes have disappeared. Somehow she's suddenly clad in armour and leather, with a cloak hanging from her shoulders. And that's it, she's completely lost it; there must have been something off in the sandwich she ate at the last stop. It had mayo in it, and did it taste funny? She can't remember but are hallucinations a symptom of salmonellosis? They must be and she's currently having them no other explanation, but she has no time for this, she has to get to Riverrun. 

Without looking back she gets to her car and, very carefully, deposits the hammer on the passenger side. 

This time the hammer acts normally and stays put, and somehow Brienne is once again clad in jeans and a t-shirt, nothing like the weird things she'd seen a minute ago. She shakes her head to clear it, the wind has died down as well and in spite of the thunder rumbling in the distance, there is not a hint of rain coming. She checks the time on her mobile and curses. She's going to be late. 

Brienne doesn't think about the weird hammer sitting on the passenger side of her car until it's time for her to return home. She's saying goodbye to Catelyn while Arya lugs around her sister's luggage, grumbling non-stop about always having to do the heavy lifting because Sansa is too delicate for her own clothes, though Brienne has no doubt that Arya has bullied her sister into letting her help. Brienne's taking Sansa to King's Landing as a favour to her mentor, Catelyn, who took her under her wing when Brienne had needed it the most. 

She had been working on her degree in Highgarden, an experience which Brienne would much rather not remember, when Catelyn Stark had swept into her life. Cat was visiting for some lectures during the worst days of Brienne's life when her classmates had decided to bet on who would seduce the ugliest girl on campus and take her virginity. Cat had taken an interest in the big girl and why she looked so miserable, and after finding out what was going on had arranged for Brienne to be transferred to Riverrun the following semester. It had been the best decision of Brienne's life.

Now she was paying back the favour by taking Sansa with her to King's Landing to finish her degree and letting her stay at her house for some time after a disastrous relationship that ended with charges being pressed.

"There's something on the seat," Sansa says when she gets in the car.

"Just toss it on the back," Brienne says, not really paying attention.

"Very funny, Brienne," Sansa says with the annoyed tone she uses sometimes with Arya. When Brienne turns Sansa's pulling on the hammer which is not budging an inch. Brienne stares, mouth agape, "Why did you glue it there?"

"_I didn't._" She says, but it's faint. Arya is elbowing her sister out of the way, a wide grin on her face.

"Let me try." She does, and again the hammer doesn't move, not even when Brienne can see Arya's arms straining with the effort. Arya stops, her brow furrowing, and turns to Brienne. "Pick it up."

Almost as if it's a dream, Brienne moves to the car and picks up the hammer with one hand. There is no rumbling of lightning or storm of air this time, and the hammer doesn't glow. And luckily her clothes remain the same ones she was wearing, but the hammer moves as if it weighed nothing. Arya is staring intently at Brienne. "Drop it on the ground for a moment?"

She does and Arya tries to pick it up again. The hammer is not moved at all, even when Arya flexes her knees and puts all her might on it, her neck cording with the effort, her biceps bulging out. She's grinning in excitement, though, as if this is the best thing that's ever happened to her, and Sansa's beginning to look excited as well. 

"Is it the real one?" Sansa says, eyes almost sparkling. Cat has approached them as well and is staring at the hammer with wide eyes.

"The real what?" Brienne asks, feeling like she's lost them somewhere. 

"Brienne, where did you find it?" Cat asks, crouching down to examine it. Brienne notices she's not trying to pick it up herself, as if she knew she wouldn't be able to.

"It was in the middle of the road, somewhere close to Pennytree. There was this hole in the ground and the hammer was there, and then I picked it up," she remembers the weirdness, the lighting and the wind and the strange clothes. "Um."

"You heard a voice?" she asks, though it's clear she already knows the answer, Brienne nods. "Extend your hand and call it!"

She does automatically before she can think about it, and the hammer comes off the ground and into her hand, a crash of lightning close by and again her clothes swapped for the fancy armour and cape. She looks at Arya, Sansa and Cat and their astonishment is reflected back to her. 

"So it wasn't a hallucination," Brienne finally says weakly.

She has the feeling that her life just got a lot more complicated.

…

It takes them several hours after that to be able to depart, Arya following Brienne, and the hammer, around like an eager puppy. She has asked her to deposit it on the ground several times, and has tried and failed to lift it every single one of them. She can't stop speaking, either, something that Brienne finds amusing even in the middle of the most confusing day of her life. Arya has never been the talkative one. 

The hammer, according to Arya, belongs to Thor. The Northern deity of thunder. 

Brienne's a southerner and has been raised in the faith of the Seven but knows the North keeps to the Old Gods, they worship their Weirdwood tree, one that's said to contain all the realms inside or some such thing. She's never been very devout or cared much for religion. 

"They're more than legends, Brienne," Cat says before letting her go back to the car. "And the fact you have Mjolnir in your hand should be enough to prove it."

She sighs. "What am I supposed to do with it?" 

"What you do best; do good, help people." Cat stares at her seriously, her blue eyes fond and proud. "It chose you because it saw something in you, only the worthy can wield Mjolnir. Don't ever doubt yourself."

She wishes she could believe it, believe she's special and worthy, but it's impossible to imagine that a magic hammer with god-like powers has chosen big, manly, ugly Brienne to be a hero. She doesn't look like one, no matter what kind of armour the hammer creates for her. 

And she already helps people, that's the reason she became a doctor. 

"You should come to the college tomorrow," Sansa says once they have left Riverrun, and her mother and sister, behind. Sansa has been quiet since they left, which serves Brienne well because she's too dumbfounded for conversation. "One of the classics professors specializes in Northern Theology and Legends. He's a bit of an ass, but will be able to help you, though I recommend leaving Mjolnir at home."

"I'll see if I can talk to him when I drop you off tomorrow," Brienne says, glad that she requested an extra day off to help Sansa settle down. "How are you feeling about going back?

Sansa smiles, a tiny thing that looks sad on her face, her eyes haunted and far away. "Ramsay's not going to be there," she says as if that explains everything. Brienne was the one who got her out of the house she shared with the asshole, and had broken his nose in the process, and then attended to Sansa's wounds. At least the ones on her body. She understands.

"You'll be fine, it's not like high school, nobody cares if you got held back a year or why." Sansa nods but doesn't say anything else.

It gives Brienne time to think about what she's going to do with the hammer, she can't get the feeling of it in her hand, the rightness of it, the power she had felt coursing through her veins, out of her head. She can't really see herself as one of the heroes of the comics she read as a child, the kind who was always Knightly and chivalrous and had the might to help others. And that was all Brienne has always wanted to do, the entire reason she chose to become a doctor.

And she's happy, she really is. She helps people and has friends and a cat and a satisfying life. She doesn't have time to feel lonely or wish for more. 

The moment her fingers closed around the leather of the handle, though, she had felt all that power and had known she could be more. She doesn't know how or why, but she wants that.

…

Doctor J. Lannister is not what Brienne was expecting, not that she was aware of having any expectations, but whatever they would have been it definitely doesn't include the most attractive man in the whole Seven Kingdoms. 

She takes a step back and checks the name on the door again, and looks at the man sitting behind a sturdy looking desk covered with what appears to be half a rain forest. He's staring at Brienne with an amused tilt to his mouth, his eyebrows up his forehead and trying to hide under his fringe. His hair is a fair brown that must have been golden under the sun but is silvering at the temples, the same silver that adorns his very soft looking beard, he has crow's feet around his eyes and laugh lines bracketing his mouth and the greenest eyes Brienne has ever seen behind wire-rimmed glasses. 

Her mouth dries, all her words fleeing at the sudden heat in her gut. Seven but she hates how tongue-tied she gets around beautiful people. This has been a terrible idea.

"Can I help you?" he asks, and even his voice is attractive. This is unfair.

"I'm looking for Doctor Lannister," she finally manages, inanely.

"You found him," there is a teasing edge to his words and his mouth is ticking up into a smirk. "You're not one of my students, though. _I would remember you._"

Brienne hears those words and feels the butterflies in her stomach quiet down, her spine straightening and her words returning. She always forgets herself momentarily around attractive people until they remind her not to bother being self-conscious because they see her in turn; ugly, mannish Brienne is not easy to miss.

"I'm not a student, you're right," she says, finally coming in and closing the door behind her. She takes the seat in front of his desks. She looks him in the eyes for the first time and sees the subtle widening of his and the little jolt of surprise. That's also something she's used to; people, especially men, will notice her height and her lack of womanly figure, but it's not until they are confronted with her face they are really shocked at how unattractive she is. Odds are good he's going to make some remark about it, most men can't seem to keep their opinions to themselves when it comes to her. "I'm writing a paper about Northern Legends, your name was recommended to me as an expert in the matter." 

That's what Sansa recommended her to say, the fewer mentions about a magic hammer, the better. Men rarely need encouragement to talk about their field of expertise, anyway.

"Oh," he says, and he leans forward slightly in his seat. "And which legend are you interested in, Miss--?"

"Tarth, Brienne Tarth," she says, extending her hand to shake. He does the same, and she notices his hands are rough and calloused, not the kind of hands she would expect from an academic, and so warm. "I'm interested in the legend of Thor."

He looks genuinely excited, his smile growing into something genuine, that shouldn't be as endearing as it is in a grown man. "That one is my favourite, Miss Tarth, or is it Mrs?" he asks, more intently than the polite question warrants. 

"Just call me Brienne," she says, and his smile widens. 

"Brienne, please call me Jaime," he says her name like it's a caress, and it makes her shiver. "Do you mind having this discussion with a coffee?" she's about to say that they can talk just as well in his office when he continues. "I have two back to back lectures in an hour and I need my caffeine fix."

Well, who's she to deny anyone their caffeine? She can always do with some more herself. "Of course." She stands up and turns her back on him, completely missing the appreciative look he sends her way before standing up to follow her.

…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because apparently long hours spent on buses during my holiday are the perfect time to write. Sorry if there are any formatting issues, this is my first time writing and posting from a mobile.

Jaime's having a frankly terrible day when she appears. 

He couldn't sleep properly the night before and then didn't have time for breakfast before work, he's been debating whether to go to the fancy place down the street from campus for a proper coffee and say fuck it to office hours, nobody ever comes on a Monday before noon anyway, or go to the cafeteria and drink that sludge they call coffee which tastes like shit but will keep him running until it's time to go home. He has a double lecture after this period, and first-year Theology students are possibly the most boring of all his classes; they still don't have enough confidence to argue with him or each other, so most classes are just him talking at them and hoping something will stick. 

He's decided to treat himself to the nice place when there's a knock on his door. He curses under his breath and then calls whoever it is to enter. 

The woman on the other side is definitely not a student. At least not one of his. There is no way Jaime would have missed the presence of someone taller even than he is in one of his lectures. This woman, the voice was definitely feminine, is tall and broad, with short platinum blonde hair slicked back and curling gently on her neck and over her ears, she's wearing skinny jeans on very shapely legs and a simple shirt, opened at the neck and revealing a long neck and an enticing dip between the collarbones. She looks at him briefly, and her mouth, big-lipped and luscious, falls open. It's a reaction Jaime's used to; for some reason most women find him attractive. This woman appears to have been struck dumb with it, and Jaime can't help the smirk on his face.

"Can I help you?" he asks, amused. 

"I'm looking for Doctor Lannister," she's dropped her eyes and is now speaking to her collarbone, her voice barely intelligible, her face flushed alarmingly.

Jaime can't do anything but tease her. "You found him, you're not one of my students, though.  _ I would remember you. _ " This woman is not the kind that's easy to forget. 

Those are somehow the wrong words. The woman's shy demeanour vanishes in under a second, her back ramrod straight once she finally lets herself fully inside the room and closes the door. "I'm not a student, you're right," she says, her voice strong and deep. It does something funny to Jaime's stomach but nothing compared to what her eyes do. Once she's sitting in front of him the woman looks him straight in the eye, and oh yes, he was right to believe he could never forget this woman, not with those unbelievable eyes. She's technically unattractive, almost downright ugly, her face made up of mismatched features hastily assembled, her milky pale skin covered in freckles, not the artistic scattering considered beautiful in some gingers but big clusters like galaxies, a crooked nose that must have been broken at least twice and big horsey teeth on a wide mouth. But those eyes more than make up for it; they are the most beautiful and clear he has ever seen, the blue of Tarth's waters, the most beautiful in Westeros, pale in comparison. He's the one feeling tongue-tied now. "I'm writing a paper about Northern Legends, your name was recommended to me as an expert in the matter," she offers, and Jaime wants to thank whoever sent her his way. 

"Oh, and what legend are you interested in, Miss--?"

"Tarth, Brienne Tarth." That explains her eyes, then. She stole the sapphires from the island that gave her name and wears them in her eyes. They shake hands and Jaime has to make himself snap out of it. He's never been attracted to anyone this way, aside from the toxic relationship he had with his sister, and needs to regain his focus quickly. "I'm interested in the legend of Thor," she says then and that's enough to get Jaime to focus on something that's not her. 

If there is something Jaime can talk about for hours, and he usually has problems shutting up according to his brother, is the legend of Thor. 

Just the hour he has before his classes is not enough to begin scratching the surface. 

He's glad, now he has the perfect excuse to see Brienne again. 

But first, coffee.

…

"Thor is one of the Northern Gods, the Old Gods they call them north of the Neck. There isn't much recorded history about the Old Gods, not even in Winterfell, and trust me, I've looked. I was a guest of the Starks for one year while I wrote my dissertation and they gave me access to their library." What a miserable year it was, he can still remember the coldness of the north and of the Northerners. That last might have been his fault though, he had been reeling from his falling out with Cersei and had relished in being as much of an ass to everyone as he could; it was a miracle Ned had not kicked him out of Winterfell, and that they had managed a somewhat cordial relationship considering their family history.

Jaime rambles about Thor and his powers, and about Mjolnir, the hammer that can only be wielded by one it considers worthy. Brienne twitches at that, colour rising to her cheeks, and Jaime loses the thread of what he's saying, wondering how far down the blush goes. It's lucky he's given so many lectures on this particular subject he can just talk about it even when his brain is completely disengaged from it, too busy cataloguing every small twitch and gesture from the woman in front of him.

He should be worried at his reaction to her; truth be told, he's elated. He's not felt even the smallest twinge of attraction for anyone since Cersei, has wondered whether she had managed to break him or if he had been broken from the beginning to have loved his twin sister in such an inappropriate manner and to have endured her abuse for so long. He hasn't even been with any woman except Cersei, which means that with the exception of a handful of drunken relapses he'd much rather not think about, he hasn't had sex since before his time in the north, and that was years ago. His therapist keeps telling him that's normal while she encourages him to step out of his comfort zone and go on a date. Tyrion and Bronn insist it's a waste for a self-imposed monk to be so attractive.

"So Mjolnir can be wielded by someone who's not Thor? Not a God?" Brienne asks and Jaime snaps back to reality.

"Technically, whoever wields the hammer  _ becomes _ Thor," Jaime says. That was always his favourite part of the legend, and what interested him in the first place when he was a child. The possibility that anyone, regardless of origin or means, could become a God. He had always dreamt of his little brother lifting the hammer and showing their father he was worthy of something much bigger than the Lannister name. "They would have Thor's power."

"How does that work?" She asks, leaning slightly forward, her entire focus on Jaime's words. He feels that gaze like a caress, and has to fight the blush that wants to rise to his face. "What kind of powers would they have?"

"Thor is the God of Thunder, so he has control over it and over some of the weather. Storms mainly. He's also strong and has accelerated healing and endurance. He's supposed to be a demigod." He's also supposed to be able to fly, though Jaime hasn't found any evidence to support that. The older texts mention Mjolnir as the way of flying but no specifics about the mechanics, he has some theories though.

"And is it always a man?" she's frowning at him, and Jaime shakes his head. 

"No, the original Thor was a man, but that is the beauty of this particular legend," Jaime spent countless hours searching for some evidence that it could be something more, that the legend had a basis in reality. He didn't find the evidence, though he's always believed it must be somewhere. That's the reason he's the main eminence in the subject, he still keeps looking for proof, for hope, that somewhere Mjolnir will choose someone worthy and they'll see it in action. "There is nothing to indicate Mjolnir wouldn't choose a woman." She's about to say something else when Jaime's mobile starts vibrating on the table, and he curses silently. Time to go back to class. "I have to head back, we can meet again and continue--"

She stands up and Jaime can't help his smile at the novel experience of having to look up at a woman. "Thank you, Professor Lannister, I think I have enough for now."

She can't, they have only started discussing it, there is so much more to talk about. "Oh, well, if you need anything else, or want to learn about other Old Gods, there are many other fascinating ones." He tries not to show his disappointment that the meeting is over; Jaime doesn't want her to leave, she's the first woman he's felt anything for in years, and has the feeling that if she leaves, he'll never see her again.

Jaime offers her one of his cards, and she takes it as if it's about to bite her.

"Thank you for your time, Professor," she says, formal and final, putting on her coat and carelessly dropping his card in the pocket. Jamie feels his stomach drop; she has no intention to call him, he knows. He wonders if this is what all those women who put their number in his pocket felt when he never called them.

"It was my pleasure," he says, shaking her hand. He watches her leave and then rushes to the campus and his first class of the week. 

He can't stop thinking about her blue eyes for the entire day, she never calls and he doesn't expect her to. 

At least he knows he's capable of feeling attraction to other people, and that is worth something. 

…

Jaime thinks about Brienne Tarth on and off for the next couple of weeks, sometimes looks mournfully at his mobile. She never calls, as he had guessed, but his classes are back in full swing and some of his students are enough of a distraction that Jaime has his hands full without constantly thinking about someone who was clearly not interested. He goes on with his normal life, even if he can't help but remember her remarkable eyes every now and then.

He's heading back home one evening after a meeting with one such student, a pretty girl who has read too many romance novels and believes seducing her teacher is easy or advisable, when he sees a familiar auburn head huddled in the furthest corner of the cafeteria. 

He hadn't known Sansa Stark was back after her ordeal with Bolton, and something in her body language rings all the alarm bells in Jaime's head. He might not consider Ned Stark a close friend, and their families have an old feud going back to the age of Kings and Queens, but Jaime got to know the family during his time in the North, and he respects the man enough to worry for his children when something like what happened to Sansa goes on right under Jaime's nose. 

"Sansa?" he calls when he's close enough he doesn't need to shout. The cafeteria on campus is never empty, there are too many bleary eyed students always one day away from some deadline and in need of their caffeine fix. Sansa startles at his voice, her entire posture stiffening and there is real fear in her eyes when she turns. She sees him then, and sags once she recognizes him. They have seen each other around campus enough times, though she's not in any of his classes. She was also in Winterfell when Jaime was researching for his dissertation, though she had been little more than a child hiding behind her mother's skirts. "Professor Lannister," she says, and the stark relief in her voice gives him pause. 

He looks around, checking who's in the cafeteria and what could have scared her so. Ramsay Bolton was expelled from the college, he shouldn't be there, but Jaime wouldn't put anything past Bolton. Jaime approaches Sansa keeping his expression and posture as non-threatening as he can. "I didn't know you were back," he says, looking at the empty chair in front of her and arching an eyebrow, asking for permission. She nods and dredges a ghost of a smile for him.

"Just started two weeks ago," she says, her hands fidgeting with her mobile, her eyes darting around nervously.

"You're not in any of my classes, what were you studying?" he asks, just to make some small talk. "Are you waiting for someone?"

She looks at him again, and shakes her head. "No." She doesn't answer his other question and Jaime doesn't push, he knows look on her face, she's terrified.

"Is it Ramsay?" he asks, though he already knows the answer. 

"I thought I saw him in the car park." 

She doesn't sound certain, but is scared enough to be hiding in the cafeteria, and Jaime is not going to add to that or doubt her words. If she believes she saw him, he's not going to debate the truth of her words. He remembers being in her place. "Is there anyone you can call to come pick you up?"

"I just called a friend, but they told me she's in surgery and doesn't finish for another hour," Sansa says, Jaime can hear in her voice how much she's trying to control the panic and stay strong.

"I know you barely know me, but--"

She shakes her head, looking him in the eye for the first time. "I remember you from home," she admits. "And I know it was you who pushed to get Ramsay expelled, though his father is a friend of yours."

"An associate, Tywin Lannister doesn't have friends," he replies, automatically and bitterly, before he can help himself. He had been the one to push for Ramsay Bolton's expulsion after he had seen some of the results of his loving care to Sansa, what he doesn't say is that it was Catelyn Stark who asked him to, though he would have done it regardless. Tywin had not been happy with him, but Jaime doesn't care. Tywin hasn't been happy with him since he learned how to read and write and proved to be less than the perfect heir, preferring to learn about heroes and gods and history instead of business. Jaime has been threatened with being disowned since he picked his field of study, though it wasn't until now that Tywin went through with it. The trust fund left by his late mother means he has never cared about it, much to Tywin's chagrin. "Sorry. I mean, of course I did, he deserved it. Now, I can sit here with you, not talking if you don't want me to, until your friend can get here. Or I can take you home, if you don't mind being in a car with me. You can call your mom, or your dad, and stay on the line with them the entire time."

She looks at him, wide-eyed. "I don't want to impose."

"I'm offering, it's not an imposition. I've been in your situation, I know how hard this is," he surprises himself confiding in her. Sansa's eyes widen even further, and Jaime can see a million questions in her eyes, but she just nods and looks down at her hands.

He waits for her to decide in silence, getting his mobile out and sending a quick message to Tyrion to tell him not to wait for him. They were going to have dinner, but he has dinner with his brother and Bronn all the time, they can survive without him for one day. Jaime sees out of the corner of his eye how Sansa puts her mobile to her ear and has a quick conversation before she hands it to him. "Jaime Lannister," a cold femenine voice says on the other side of the line, and Jaime has no problem recognizing Catelyn Stark. "If anything happens to my child--"

"Hello to you too, Cat, long time not talking to you," he says cutting her off, irked by her tone and her words. He's trying to help. "And you know better."

A sigh. "Yes. But I'm worried." Of course she is, Ramsay Bolton is a monster. He'd be worried as well in her stead. "Can you drive her home?"

"Yes, and she can keep the phone line open if it will make you feel better."

"No need," she says, curtly, and the act of trust belays the harsh tone. Jaime almost smiles, Cat will never be a warm person, at least not to him, but she wouldn't trust her children to just anyone. "Thanks, Jaime." She hangs up and Jaime hands the phone back to Sansa.

They don't see anyone on the car park, though Sansa keeps darting looks around as if Ramsay Bolton is about to appear out of nowhere and attack her in broad daylight. If he does, Jaime wouldn't be surprised at all. "Do you want to get your car or do you prefer me to drive you on mine?"

She looks surprised for a moment. "Yours."

They spend the rest of the drive in silence, but Jaime doesn't mind, it gives him time with his thoughts, which go back to Cersei and how difficult it had been those first few months back in King's Landing after the quiet of Winterfell, how he'd seen her everywhere and the heightened sense of paranoia after each time. It was during those first months that he had given in and fallen into bed with her a couple of times, and he regretted it deeply both times.

Sansa calls directions, her voice getting stronger the further they are from campus, until they stop in front of an apartment building off the Street of Steel. "I can leave you here, and wait in the car until your friend gets back, if you prefer."

Sansa finally smiles at that. "Thank you, Professor, but you can come up. At least let me offer you a coffee or tea while we wait for Bri, or my mom will scold me for my lack of manners."

Jaime feels a jolt at the name, but it can't be. It would be too much of a coincidence, and also Sansa hasn't said Brienne, just Bri, it could be short for Brigit or any other number of names. 

They go to the flat, Sansa opens the door with her own key and Jaime goes straight to where she points the living room to be, a warmly decorated room with a big plush couch and dark grey fluffy throws, big bookcases full of all sorts of literature and movies, and a large flatscreen TV dominating one of the walls. There are some photographs scattered around, and he wants to snoop while Sansa prepares the tea for both of them, but years of manners drilled into him by Tywin Lannister win out and he just takes a seat. At least until he sports something odd on the floor by one of the bookcases, and he can't help but approach what looks like an amazing reproduction of Mjolnir. He crouches next to it, amazed at the level of detail that has gone into this. The engravings on the side are a perfect copy of the ones in the book he found in Winterfell, so is the detail of the handle. Jaime's sure the top of the hammer, which is against the floor, will also have the indentation and markings. He grabs the handle to lift it and check, manners be damned, and loses his breath when the hammer refuses to budge.

This can't be happening. Jaime feels his stomach tightening and his heart begin to race.

"Bri just called, she finished early and is almost home," Sansa says, coming into the living room. Jaime turns to her in time to see her eyes widening, a look of panic crossing her face, all the confirmation Jaime needs that this is indeed happening. 

"You--" he begins, his eyes probably as wide and crazed as Sansa's.

The door opens in that moment, and it's like all of Jaime's Sevenmas have come at once. He must have been a thoroughly good person in a previous life, because the person who enters the room is Brienne Tarth, it can't be anyone else with those blue eyes and tall and broad enough to fill the doorway like that. She takes in the scene, and almost like a reflex, extends her hand and the hammer flies from Jaime's lax grasp straight into it.

They stare at each other mutely for a moment, then Brienne seems to realize what she's done and she exhales and says, heartfelt and rough. " _ Oh, fuck _ ."

...

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so bear with me here. I'm going to assume Thor wasn't born knowing how to use his powers and Mjolnir, especially when in Thor: Ragnarok Odin has to remind him the power is inside him and the hammer is a crutch.  
I'm going with the idea that magic hammer with no user manual but attuned to the wielder emotions = accidental damage. Busy person with magic hammer who doesn't want to cause damage will need lessons from the expert.

Brienne stares at Professor Jaime Lannister standing frozen in the middle of her living room, eyes wide and astonished fixed on her as Mjonlr slaps into her hand, and wishes the ground to open and swallow her whole. 

This is not how she imagined seeing him again, and Brienne has to admit she had imagined it.

She's rushed back home after Sansa's frantic message, worry and fury writhing inside of her. How dare Ramsay Bolton show his face around campus again? How dare he, after everything he's done, seek Sansa again? The possibility of Sansa being paranoid has not crossed her mind; men like Ramsay always dared. Brienne had hurried as much as possible after her shift, grateful the surgery had gone well and was finished ahead of schedule. She had seen Sansa's text on her way to pick her up and changed directions so fast she's amazed she didn't get a ticket.

"I'm home, I'm fine. I have a friend with me." The rush of relief had left her lightheaded, and Brienne had driven the rest of the way at a more sedated pace, willing her heart to slow down as well.

Whatever she had assumed she was going to find when she got there, possibly Sansa and one of the girls in her class she had mentioned before having tea, Professor Lannister with his hand around Mjolnir's handle and a stunned expression on his stupidly beautiful face wasn't even on the list.

She reacts without thinking and calls the hammer to her hand, just in case the main expert in Northern Theology and Legends can't recognize the real hammer of Thor without seeing it flying. "_Oh fuck_," Brienne says when it slaps against her palm, a world of feeling in so few words, the distant roll of thunder punctuating them neatly.

At least she's not in armour, small mercies and all that, though she doesn't feel much better in her slightly stained scrubs. She hasn't wasted time to change in her worry for Sansa, and now she's regretting it. 

"_I'm so sorry,_" Sansa says, chagrined, breaking the tense silence that has fallen on the room. "I forgot it was there." 

To be completely honest, so had Brienne. 

It's not that having a mystical hammer that grants god-like powers is something that happens every day, but apart from lifting the hammer and listening to the crash of thunder, and the unsolicited makeover, Brienne doesn't know what to do with it. It didn't come with an instruction manual for her to read and there are no handy forums on the internet for her to look up.

Brienne has been tempted to contact Professor Lannister, Jaime as he had asked her to call him, several times since their only meeting. Problem is, Brienne doesn't remember much of what they had discussed during that time; she had been too focused on his face and voice and gestures, on how he illustrated his points with his hands and the distracting way in which he would bite his lower lip when mulling about something, and how charming she shouldn't find his enthusiasm, especially when she had decided in his office that he was the same as all men and should not be attracted to him. Afterwards, she had tried to find out more on her own but there isn't that much information available about the Old Gods south of The Neck, Brienne has looked. Going to Winterfell's always an option, the Starks have never been anything but welcoming with her, but not a realistic one considering she has a job. Besides, she would not know where to begin looking for information, even when she was a student research was never her strong suit.

"Call Professor Lannister," Sansa had told her distractedly when Brienne had complained for the tenth time, tossing the hammer from one hand to the other while she paced around the living room. It was probably then she had dropped it next to the bookcase and promptly forgotten about if after too many double shifts at work. "He's the expert, he'll help you."

Brienne had given Sansa a disgruntled look, remembering how her words had failed her when faced with him. Sansa had not mentioned how ridiculously attractive he was, and that was important information. "I'd rather not." 

Sansa had shrugged and gone back to her studying, and Brienne had been happy to let the subject drop. Too happy, considering the position they are in now.

Brienne might not have wanted to contact Professor Lannister, but she has been thinking about him enough. It's impossible not to when his green eyes and his perfect beard and perfect face and smooth voice have refused to leave her mind. She's had his card in her hand ready to dial his number several times but talked herself out of it every time, remembering how dumb she had felt just staring at him and how shocked he had looked when he had seen her face. 

Now he's here, in her house, looking at her like she's the best thing to happen to him because she has Mjolnir in her hand. "_That explains your interest in Thor,_" he says, his voice sounds breathless with wonder. "Since when do you have Mjolnir? Where did you find it? What can you do with it?"

"Um," Brienne says, intelligently when he pauses to take a breath. She can feel a blush crawling up her face, and really wishes for a good natural disaster to strike and get her out of this situation. 

As soon as she thinks that, thunder crashes way too close for comfort, lightning illuminating the room in white flashes, and Brienne drops the hammer on the floor and takes a step away from it. She had not meant to do that, has no idea how she did but can't risk bringing another lighting on top of them this time. They are all blinking rapidly to readjust to the light, and Sansa finally moves and places the tea tray in her hands on the table. Brienne turns to look at her, fully conscious that Lannister's still staring at her with the same intensity but determined to ignore him.

Sansa's looking too pale and frightened, and Brienne remembers the reason she had for running back home. She feels overwhelmingly guilty for having forgotten, even for a moment. "Sansa, tell me what happened, where was he? Did he do anything? Are you ok?" Brienne asks, getting back to the important thing. She can have a freak out about Lannister and everything else later. "Do we need to call the police?" She has a restraining order for a reason.

"Sorry I scared you," Sansa says averting her eyes, "it was nothing. I thought I saw him, but--" The way she looks down and wrings her hands tells Brienne it wasn't nothing, but she doesn't know what she can say with Lannister in the room.

"Sansa _saw_ Bolton in the car park," Lannister says before Brienne can ask again, and she shoots him a surprised look. He's turned to Sansa now, his expression concerned. "I know her family from my time in Winterfell, I offered to drive her home. I didn't see him, but that doesn't mean he wasn't there, I also know the Boltons." 

Brienne's moved against her will by how he's not doubting Sansa's words or treating them as anything but the absolute truth. They needed bruises and broken bones for the Gold Cloaks to do the same.

"It could have been my imagination," Sansa insists, doing a poor attempt at shrugging it off. 

"It also could have been him," Brienne says, and goes to Sansa, folding her into an embrace until she feels her relax against her body. "Thanks for bringing her home, Professor Lannister," she says without turning to look at him. She can tell he's practically vibrating on the spot, the presence of Mjolnir on the floor of their living room like that of another person, but he surprises Brienne with his restraint. 

"No thanks needed, and it's Jaime," he says after a pause. 

Sansa has finally relaxed in her arms, her breathing completely calm. She knows she'll have to deal with Lannister knowing about Mjolnir, but now she has more pressing concerns. "I don't want to be rude--" she begins, and hears a soft snort from Lannister. 

"You want me to leave." She expects him to protest; he has the proof of the legend he has dedicated most of his career to studying at his fingertips, Brienne would have guessed she'd need to use the hammer itself to get him away from them but he surprises her again. "I will, but answer me one thing, Brienne." She turns her head to look at him over her shoulder. "What can you do with it? Apart from hitting things very hard and summoning storms by accident? Can you direct lighting? Can you throw and retrieve it? _Can you fly?_" Brienne feels a shiver of excitement at the idea of flying, but she can't do any of those things, hadn't even known they were a possibility. The way he looks at her show he already knows the answer. She keeps thinking the hammer chose her by mistake, much as Cat insists that's not possible. "You still have my number?" She nods, and he smiles, his entire face illuminated with it. "Then call me when you want to learn all those things. Sansa, if you ever see that bastard again around campus, come find me; your mother will kill me if something happens to you."

He leaves quietly, the click of the door closing the only indication that they are now alone. Brienne takes Sansa to the couch and then serves her tea from the tray she had prepared, sitting with her while they drink in silence, just lending Sansa her presence and a shoulder to lean on if she wants, Mjolnir forgotten again in the middle of the room. 

...

In the end, Brienne doesn't call him but as it turns out she doesn't need to. 

Before, she told herself that as attractive as he was, Lannister was like the rest of men and Brienne was better off not making a fool of herself in front of him, she didn't need his expertise so much. Except she does need it because she doesn't really know what to do with her magic hammer. 

And apparently, he's not like the rest of men.

"Professor Lannister didn't make me feel unsafe at all. He didn't try to touch me and only sat with me when I gave him permission," Sansa told her after he left that night when Brienne questioned how he came to be with her at home. "He spoke to my mom, and even suggested that I stayed on the phone with her, and staying on the street until you got home instead of coming up with me. I remember him from Winterfell. He's also the one who got Ramsay expelled." 

That's more consideration from a man than any of them are used to, and it makes Brienne wonder at their first meeting. He had been teasing, that is true, but at no point he'd been insulting. Maybe she had been too quick to judge; he had been helpful and almost flirtatious, or would have been if he wasn't so attractive and Brienne wasn't, well, Brienne. 

She still doesn't call him, though by then she doesn't even need to look at his card anymore, she's managed to memorize the number just by staring at it. 

Lannister's in her living room again a few days later. This time Mjolnir is safely kept in Brienne's wardrobe; he's sitting with Sansa on the couch, both of them cradling a mug of tea in their hands. They're chatting animatedly, and Sansa has one of her rare smiles on her face, cheeks flushed and sparkling eyes. 

"Bri! You're earlier than I thought today," she says when she sees Brienne enter, turning to her. Brienne feels uncomfortably like she's interrupting them, and wants to glare at Lannister for being on her couch smiling at Sansa and gesturing with his free hand like he did when chatting to Brienne before. "Jaime was telling me about the time he got lost in the Godswood in Winterfell and found Bran trying to talk to birds."

Lannister smiles at her. "We were chased out of the Godswood by a bad-tempered raven that almost pecked the two of us to death."

Sansa laughs, a lovely sound that usually warms Brienne, especially being so rare. "I remember when he came home that night, crying that he didn't want to be a raven anymore. He wanted to be a Lion!" They both chuckle, very much at ease with each other. 

"Lannister," Brienne says with a curt nod. "Did you follow Sansa home so you could see Mjolnir?" The other explanation is that he's here flirting with Sansa, but he's the same age as her parents and a teacher at her college, if that's his intention he'd not be so open about it, Brienne's positive.

"_Brienne_!" Sansa admonishes her, her tone eerily like Cat's. "Jaime was kind enough to give me a lift, I managed to kill the battery on the car again. I probably forgot to switch off the headlights." It had happened once before, Brienne wouldn't be surprised if she'd done it again.

"Oh," Brienne says, feeling silly. 

She's too suspicious of men's motives, or so Cat always tells her. 

Lannister stands up then, his smile has not dimmed at all in spite of Brienne's accusation. "I didn't come for that, but I'd love to see it again," he says, eagerly, his look pleading. "If you don't mind?" Brienne nods and walks to her room, it's the least she can do as a thank you and apology for being suspicious, shooting him a look over her shoulder so he knows to follow her. 

She goes to the wardrobe and gets Mjolnir out, and Lannister approaches her slowly, extending his hands almost reverently. "Can I?" he asks, his fingertips scant inches from the metal, and Brienne can understand what Sansa meant about not feeling unsafe with him. He's waiting for her to give him permission to even touch the hammer, though he's probably about to fly apart at the seams out of sheer excitement if she's reading his look correctly. She nods, and he presses his hand against the metal, exhaling softly once he makes contact. "It's not cold." He says, wondering and awestruck. 

"No, it's not."

He carefully moves his fingers over the surface of the hammer, his fingers following each grove and indentation, moving over the engravings as if trying to read them through to touch. He looks up at Brienne, his green eyes bright and wide, his entire face shining with happiness. 

He really is unfairly beautiful. 

He leans forward, closer to Brienne, and she can't help herself and leans towards him. "I don't think it was a coincidence Sansa's car wouldn't start," he says, a barely heard whisper. Brienne's eyes snap up to his, he's too close for comfort and still has that slightly awestruck expression on his face, but his eyes are sharp and focused.

"Oh," Brienne breathes out, annoyed with herself that she has been reduced to just that expression. 

"I want to keep a closer eye on her," he says, still in the same barely there tone so Sansa can't hear them. "I don't trust Bolton, and don't think we should rely on luck and me seeing her by chance standing next to her car." Brienne nods, feeling her anger spike. She wants to hurt Ramsay. In the distance, the rumble of thunder approaches. He smiles gleefully at it. "Oh, you're angry and it's responding to your emotions."

"Yes," she says through a clenched jaw. She didn't want it to do that, but can't deny it's the truth. 

"How does that feel? Do you know your eyes are literally sparking?" he sounds breathless, "can you feel lightning in your veins? See if you can chase the feeling?" She takes a deep breath to calm down and does a very slow blink, tracing the feeling and forcing it down, the tingle at her fingertips gone by the time she opens her eyes. "Oh, this way they are even prettier." he stares at her eyes for another moment and then takes a step back, his eyes roaming her face and then her entire frame, taking in her too tall height and too broad shoulders, the definitely unfeminine and powerful body, going back to end on her big lips, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. If they weren't so close, she wouldn't see it. "_You really are a perfect Thor_."

"You don't need to flatter me to get access to Mjolnir," Brienne says, irritated at his words. She knows what she is and what she isn't. She's never been a perfect anything. "I know I'm not the hero type."

He frowns. "The hero type? You are a doctor and save lives regularly, you're already a hero, no hammer needed," he says as if there is no doubt about it. "Also, Sansa told me what you did for her, I would have loved to see you hitting that bastard."

Those are the same words Cat has been telling her, but Cat knows her and loves her, she's biased. Lannister probably wants something from her. "Have you seen any hero movie or comic book where they look like me?" she challenges him. 

He shrugs. "Those are modern imaginings based on what movie executives want to fuck, and they have no bearing on reality. Would you say a dwarf is the hero type?" she shakes her head, confused. "Look up my brother Tyrion some time. I always thought he'd be worthy of the hammer. Now I've seen you with it, I think you're better." He moves away from her and walks back to the living room. 

"I think I'm going to be coming back with you from now on, Sansa, if you don't mind." She hears him say. His tone back to that lighthearted one he was using before. "I will be teaching Brienne how to use Mjolnir before she manages to electrocute us all by accident."

Is he? That's not what they have discussed, but it will give him an excuse to be next to Sansa after class. And it means Brienne won't have to make the decision to call him and ask for help, even if he could have phrased it differently. 

"Finally! I kept telling her to call you," Sansa says, then raises her voice. "See Brienne, he'll help!"

"I will see you tomorrow then, can Brienne drive you to class or do you want me to pick you up since your car is still there?" Brienne has to hand it to him, he's arranged everything in under a minute and without Sansa realizing what he's doing.

"I'll take her, and check her car while she's in class," Brienne calls from her room. She's no mechanic but if it's been obviously tampered with, she will be able to see it. 

He leaves then and Brienne listens for the click of the lock before she sits on her bed, Mjolnir still in her hand. 

"I think he likes you," Sansa says leaning on the door, and for the first time, Brienne summons lightning inside. 

Sansa is still laughing at her singed door when Brienne drops the hammer and her face in her hands. 

She definitely needs those lessons. 

…


	4. Chapter 4

Jaime can barely contain himself that night after leaving Brienne and Sansa's house, a ridiculous grin on his face. 

He can't believe he's touched Mjolnir, can't believe he's felt the warm metal under his palm, has felt the slight vibration of the electricity seemingly trapped inside on his fingertips. And he especially can't believe he's seen Brienne's eyes sparkling like live wires, bright and alive and yet not as beautiful as her natural blue ones. 

This is much better than a few days before when he had left their apartment reluctantly, wishing more than anything that he had been allowed to stay and just look at the hammer and the person worthy enough to wield it, and now he has a reason to go back.

He had understood why he needed to leave, though. Had known that Sansa, rattled as she'd been by what she'd seen, needed time to compose herself and having a virtual stranger, regardless of her memories of him from all those years ago that was what he was, in her private space wasn't the best for it. 

He had pressed his forehead against their door like a creep for a minute while he calmed down, and then got to his car and drove back home. As soon as he was there he got a beer out of the fridge, took a deep gulp, and collapsed on his sofa. He stared sightlessly at his overburdened bookshelves, the excess of books spilling over every surface available around the living room, and the state of the art TV Tyrion had gotten for him which needed dusting again, something that never seemed to happen to his books. He might be as much of a nerd as his brother was always accusing him of being.

After a few minutes, he took out his mobile and made a call. This was too big for him not to talk to anyone, and there was one person he was positive knew about it.

"I left your daughter safe and sound at home," he said when she picked up. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa, unable to keep the stupid smile off his face. He was certain Cat must be hearing it. "I waited with her until her friend arrived."

"Thank you, Jaime," she said, and she sounded sincere and relieved.

"No, _thank you, Cat_," he said, and he let all the giddiness and glee he was feeling in his tone. "If I hadn't taken Sansa home today, I wouldn't have found something _very interesting_."

The silence on the other side of the line was the loudest he'd ever heard. "Please tell me they didn't," Cat finally said, dismayed.

"Leave a priceless, legendary artefact lying around the living room where anyone could have found it? Why, yes they did." he laughed, childish and happy, the reality of it hitting him. Mjolnir really existed, and Jaime knew exactly where to find it. "Not that anyone would have been able to steal it, or even lift it." 

Cat groaned. "Seven give me patience, _those idiot children_. What are you going to do?" She couldn't help but sound suspicious, Jaime knew it, but it sobered him up some. He might not be able to lift the hammer, but he could definitely make life hard for Brienne and Sansa if he wanted to. 

"Well, for starters I'm going to find everything I don't know already about the uses of Mjolnir, and even dig into some texts I was saving for my holiday." There were two tomes he had shipped from Deepwood Motte the month before which he hadn't had a chance to examine yet. This might be fate in action; when he ordered them he'd done out of habit, it had been a long time since he'd thought about Mjolnir and Thor as more than subjects for research. "Then I'm going to try to help Brienne learn to use it." If she called him, which he had hoped the first time he met her as well and had not happened. But maybe this time she would, after all, there weren't many places for her to learn. She wanted to, he'd seen it in her eyes.

"You're not going to say anything about how a woman shouldn't wield the power of Thor?" Cat asked, incredulous, and Jaime felt offended for a moment. 

"Of course not, have you seen Brienne? I'm sure she can wield it better than any man," he said before he could rein in his tongue, could hear the awe in his own voice and it made him blush. Then, of course, he had to make it worse. "Is she single?"

"Yes, she is," Cat said, her voice several degrees colder. "Why?"

"I like her," he admitted. 

"Because of it?" Cat must consider Brienne one of her children if she was this protective.

"No, I already did when she came to consult me. She just disappeared and I didn't know how I'd find her again, but I'm very grateful for it as well."

Whatever she heard in his voice, it must have convinced her. "Good luck then Lannister, you're going to need it. Brienne's hasn't had good experiences with men," which would explain her wariness, Jaime is not stupid enough to not be aware of the reason. "I better not hear you've become another bad one."

She had hung up on him the way she usually did, but not even that had been enough to tamper Jaime's good mood. 

He had spent the next couple of days gathering material and devising some kind of a training scheme for something as different and extraordinary as Mjolnir, something nobody had attempted before. But there was a reason he was considered the expert in that subject, and even when Tyrion had gone to pick him up for dinner and he was still with his nose buried in a book, Jaime's enthusiasm was unabated. Even the fact that Brienne hadn't called him, again, was insufficient to down his mood. He'd had proof of Thor being real, had touched the hammer, and had seen Brienne summon lightning. He didn't care how much Tyrion called him a nerd for ditching them again, for a book this time, Jaime was as happy as he remembered being when he was a child and discovered the legends for the first time. 

And now she's agreed to train with him. 

He reins a bit on his enthusiasm remembering the reason she has accepted. _Sansa_. Jaime really wouldn't put it past that creep Ramsay to have done something to her car, Jaime knows the family and doesn't believe it's a coincidence. Roose is a ruthless psychopath with dealings on both sides of the law, and his son is even worse. He doesn't like this situation one bit. 

He needs to keep an eye on him and knows the best way to do it. "I've got a job for you," he calls Bronn as soon as he gets home. "The paying kind." 

…

The next day they meet at a clearing just past the Old Gate. 

Sansa sends Brienne the location when they get in Jaime's car. "Do you want me to drop you at home first?" Jaime asks her and has to bite down on his disappointment when Sansa says no. He likes Sansa and of course it will be easier to keep an eye on her if she's with them, but somehow he had imagined he'd get to spend time alone with Brienne. 

"I have my laptop with me," she says, patting the shiny surface. "And Brienne's on the way, I don't want to make her wait long."

Brienne's already there when they arrive, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, her hair pulled back from her face. She smiles at Sansa and then turns to Jaime with a nod. 

"Jaime." 

It's not a smile, but the gesture is friendly enough and she has used his first name. He grins at her. "Brienne, follow me please." The place where they park their cars is not the destination Jaime has in mind, it's too open and visible from the gate. They start walking into the trees, Brienne and Sansa following him with puzzled looks.

The Old Gate opens to a bit of forest that has avoided, so far, being levelled and transformed into apartment buildings. It's not too big, but it has been going through a re-forestation scheme and it's thick enough, old wide trees competing for space with saplings, a green expanse just outside the walls. Barely five minutes walk from the gate there's a small, circular clearing. There's a big tree stump in the middle, and a circumference almost as big as Jaime's apartment free of any vegetation. He has never found an explanation of why it's there, but stumbled upon it one day during his run and has loved to come here occasionally to sit on the stump and read. 

Brienne and Sansa look around them, the wonder in their eyes speaking clearly. The green canopy of surrounding trees make it feel like they're under a dome, rays of sun filtering through the leaves and painting everything green and gold, the cut-down tree stump right below the only piece of sky visible here. 

"It's beautiful," Sansa says, smiling. 

"It's also away from the city, this way we won't alarm anyone with the lighting."

Sansa sits on the stump crosslegged with her laptop and proceeds to completely ignore them, typing away at whatever assignment she has to complete. They move to one side and then stand staring at each other for a moment too long. "I didn't see anything in Sansa's car, though I'm no mechanic," Brienne says in an undertone, darting a look at Sansa. "What now?"

"I've asked a friend to look into it."

Brienne frowns, her tone suspicious. "Is your friend a Gold Cloak?"

"Not exactly." He wants to laugh at the idea of Bronn in a gold cloak uniform. She nods, her posture easing.

"How are we supposed to do this?" Brienne asks loudly, the subject finished for now. "There is no handy instruction manual for magic hammers on the internet."

"Not on the internet, no," Jaime says and pulls from his backpack a very, very old book and a used notebook with bent covers. He hands the book reverently to Brienne. "This is from my private collection." It's a thin leather-bound tome with yellowing pages, the script a mixture between old Valyrian and Northern runes and it took Jaime almost a year, and almost as many gold dragons at he paid for it, to get it translated when he bought it. It's a good thing he's as rich as he's obstinate. 

She takes it delicately like she knows how valuable it is and shoots him a look once she sees the script, her eyebrows high on her forehead. "You know I'm not the original Thor, I can't read this."

"I have the translation, that one is for the pictures." The book is a tale of a battle between Thor and the Frost Giants, something of a fairy tale, but it includes some of the best descriptions of Thor in combat Jaime has been able to find. And some illustrations. They look at the first one, which is of Thor flying through the air with Mjolnir pulling him. 

"Maybe that for later?" Brienne says with a hopeful lilt to her voice that makes Jaime's heart beat faster.

They spend the next couple of hours getting Brienne used to the feeling of lighting, Jaime reading from some passages of his translation while she lights up at intervals, trying to recapture the feelings of the previous day when she turned into a live wire in her anger. Jaime would happily spend days there, sitting on the ground a few feet and looking up at Brienne while she holds the hammer and takes deep breathes, eyes closed, and then opens them with electricity crackling inside of them. They have managed to get her to light up herself without scorching the ground or the trees around them, which had happened the first couple of times she had lit up. Anger's not the best conductor, as it turns out.

"I think you got it," Jaime says after she's managed to do it five times in a row. The smile she gives him is small and tentative, but it makes him feel as if all that electricity is now in him. 

"I'm hungry," Sansa announces right behind him, and Jaime turns to look at her, suddenly realizing the light in the clearing is almost gone. "And I'm about to run out of battery."

"We should get going, I didn't realize how late it is," Brienne says, and Jaime stands from where he was sitting. 

He doesn't really want to go home so soon, or at least not alone. "Let's get some food on the way, I'm also starving." He tries for casual, but the knowing look Sansa gives him tell he misses by a mile, but she accepts quickly ignoring Brienne's glare at her.

That sets the tone for the next days; Jaime picks up Sansa at the end of their classes and they head out to the clearing where Brienne is usually waiting for them. She always asks whether he's heard anything about the Ramsay situation before they start with her thing, and every day Jaime tells her no. He has faith in Bronn, though, if there is something to be found, he will find it. 

Brienne is a really quick study, considering Jaime's making things up on the fly and using tales and legends from over thousands of years ago as if they were legitimate sources. He's surprised they haven scorched themselves yet following some of the things he's found.

"You're sure about this?" She asks the first time they are about to try something new, and Jaime always tells her he is. She's been looking less and less doubtfull each day, and the first time she directs lighting successfully where Jaime indicates she laughs and whops, Jaime has to hold himself back from hugging her. Nobody mentions the laptop she fried two days before and that Jaime had to replace for Sansa.

It's a lot more fun that Jaime had ever imagined, and if at times he wonders wistfully what it would be like to be worthy of such a thing, to feel that power coursing through him, he just needs to look at Brienne and knows there couldn't be anyone worthier than her. 

She lets Jaime examine the hammer for a few minutes when they finish for the day, the last time Brienne forgets he can't lift it and lets go of it, Mjolnir suddenly dropping to the ground and taking Jaime down with it, much to Sansa's amusement and Brienne's dismay. Jaime will say that the scrape to his knees and the very unmanly yelp that issues from his mouth are a more than reasonable price to pay for the fact she forgot he's not worthy. 

Also, she's extra nice during dinner and even lets him take some of the fries from her plate.

Jaime can't keep the smile off his face for the rest of the day.

…

Bronn is waiting for him when Jaime returns home, a skip in his step and a ridiculous smile on his face. It's been almost two weeks since he started training Brienne and though there isn't much left for her to accomplish, each day she's a bit less guarded, a bit more open with him, their interactions still focused on her controlling the power she has now but not exclusively dedicated to it. 

And afterwards, they spend more and more time having dinner, bantering and learning more about each other every day. Jaime had liked Brienne when she came into his office all those weeks ago, but that was just physical attraction, nothing compared to what he feels now that he's getting to know her better. Now he knows there are minefields in her past, almost as many as there are in his, but that she's a warm and honest person, one that would go out of her way to help others. He knows that she's an honorary Stark, and that Sansa and Cat are on his side in his campaign to get her to like him. 

He's growing on her, he's sure of it.

Today she has been summoning the hammer from beside her car to the clearing; the first time it flew into her hand she had been surrounded by lighting, and when it dissipated Brienne was clad in Thor's armour. Jaime's mouth still dries thinking about how amazing she had looked like that; Brienne was not made for modern clothes, as good as she filled them. She was made for leather and armour, the sleeveless vest showcasing her muscles and the tight leather pants clinging to her magnificent thighs. The cape fluttering behind her and matching the colour of her flushed face had been the icing on the cake.

Jaime had almost been drooling. " You--" he had said, forgetting his intention to not be too obvious about his crush on her. "_You are magnificent_."

For the first time, Brienne had not dismissed him or argued, just flushed deeper and shyly dropped her eyes. It had been then Jaime had decided he was going to ask her out, the sooner the better. Sansa's going back to Riverrun to spend the weekend with her family for her brother's birthday, and Brienne isn't going with her, it would be the perfect timing.

"You're a very happy cunt for someone running afoul that nasty piece of work Bolton," Bronn says as a way of greeting when Jaime gets out of his car. His smile vanishes immediately.

Jaime looks at him and sees a slightly worried look in Bronn's eyes in spite of his callous words. "You've found something."

They go up to his house, a tense silence between them until they are in the kitchen with a beer in their hands. Jaime leans against his counter and waits for Bronn to talk. There isn't much that rattles the man, so it must be bad what he's found. 

"Bolton's in bed with the Brave Companions," Bronn says and Jaime frowns at him, the name is familiar but he can't immediately place it. "They, of course, work for daddy, but it looks like Ramsay is getting in the family business, and not the legit one since you got him expelled from college."

Jaime feels his blood freezing when he remembers. "_The Bloody Mummers_?" That's where he heard the name before, he remembers Tywin mentioning the mercenary company from Essos and how they were diversifying from murder and mayhem into all kinds of trafficking, and trying to get a foothold in Westeros. They have found it with Roose Bolton it seems. "He's working with them?"

Bronn nods. "It gets better, he has the Gold Cloaks in his pocket, so don't bother reporting him for stalking the pretty red-headed bird. He's obsessed with her, he's been sniffing around campus and now he thinks you're fucking her. He's not happy about it, though I wouldn't blame you, she's hot. That what this is about?"

Sometimes Jaime forgets what an asshole Bronn is, though there is no one better than him at what he does as long as you have money and don't ask how he gets results. "Don't be disgusting, I could be her father." 

Bronn smiles nastily. "So is the big bitch you're fucking then." He turns serious then, and Jaime knows whatever he's going to say, it's bad. "Hope is worth it because Bolton wants you dead."

...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done! One more chapter, which I'm hoping to have done soon. Thanks so much to everyone who's commented and sent kudos. I love that so many people agree Brienne is worthy :)

Brienne's angry. 

She wishes for a moment she hasn't learned to control it and could let the storm gathered inside of her crash outside, a perfect visual representation of what she's feeling. Or just one good lighting bolt on top of Jaime Lannister, that would also be very satisfying. 

She should have trusted her instincts and kept him at an arms-length, instead, she's warmed up to him, to his charm and enthusiasm and the way he looks at her as if she's somehow worthy of admiration by someone who looks like him. 

She believed Sansa when she told her Jaime likes her, the more fool she.

"Come on, Bri, he's probably writing sonnets in his head, or covering his notebooks with J+B and little hearts," Sansa had laughed one of the nights after they got back from the clearing. It was the day after Brienne had fried her laptop with a misplaced bolt and Jaime had given Sansa a brand new one in the morning saying he couldn't stand Brienne's guilty face, eyes lighting up at the way she stammered and blushed. 

"He likes Thor, Sansa, not me," Brienne had argued for the millionth time. 

"No, he doesn't, it's not Thor he doesn't shut up about. Well, it is, but he asks about you on the way here all the time. _You_." 

Because he already knew everything he needed about Thor. He was the expert, after all, Brienne didn't say. "Why would someone like him like someone like me?"

"_Why wouldn't he?_ You're wonderful, you have the most amazing eyes, and the longest legs, and are honest and funny and caring," Sansa had protested vehemently like she always did. "I know what happened to you in college made you believe a beautiful person can't like someone who's not without an ulterior motive, but that's as shallow as liking someone only because they're beautiful. That's the same as me thinking every man will only want me to hurt me." Sansa's words had made Brienne think about it, consider she might have been unfair to Jaime and to herself because of her past. 

She's paid more attention to the things Jaime says and how he acts, not just with Brienne but also with Sansa. He flirts, that's true, but only with Brienne. Sansa, he treats as one would a younger sister, gently teasing her but never in a way which could be considered flirtatious or inappropriate. He always looks at both of them in the eye, though he seems to linger more on Brienne's as if he's reluctant to look away, and he has not insulted her or made any snide comment about her appearance. Sansa feels at ease with him like she does with few men, and he seems to instinctively know where her boundaries are. 

"He knows how it is," is all Sansa says about that, and Brienne knows enough to read between the lines and not ask questions. 

So Brienne's smiled at him more, delighted at the easy way he always smiles back, wide and happy, and has responded to his flirtations. She has even believed it when Sansa said he was going to ask her out, right after Jaime's seen her in armour for the first time, the open admiration in his eyes blatant enough Brienne has finally admitted that yes, he appears to like her. And she might like him as well, as much as she's tried not to. 

She's opened herself for rejection and shouldn't be surprised that's exactly what she got. 

Brienne has stayed for the weekend in King's Landing, not because Sansa told her it was when Jaime was going to ask her out but because she wasn't able to change the night shift on Friday, and is not going to drive up to Riverrun for just one night after her shift. 

Jaime has not asked her out like she was hoping when her mobile vibrated and she saw his name pop up on her screen. "I'm in trouble with the dean, I'm so late in returning assignments. I'm afraid I can't make it today. I will see you next week." The text reads and Brienne's suddenly, blindingly furious, mostly with herself for believing once again in the sweet words of a man pretending to be interested in her. 

She's been a fool for thinking that this time it was different and an attractive mas was interested in her. Her, big and manly and ugly, when of course it has been Sansa all along. Why else would he just disappear the moment Sansa's gone for a few days? He'll see her next week? After Sansa's back, of course. Brienne curses his name, feeling hurt because in spite of herself she's come to like Jaime, has come to feel something for him and that only makes it more painful. At least she never really cared for Hyle or any of the other guys in college. 

All her doubts and feelings of inadequacy from her time in Highgarden come back to the surface, and she doesn't have Sansa or Cat in her ear to tell her it's not her fault, that he's the one to blame. Brienne does what she's always done in these cases, she throws herself into work, blocking everything but the immediate and what she needs to do, forcing every thought of Jaimie Lannister out of her head. By the time Brienne's finished her shift on Saturday morning, she's mentally exhausted and wants nothing more than sleeping for the next two days.

She goes straight home and falls face-first on her bed, not thinking about him at all.

…

Brienne opens her eyes slowly in a dimly illuminated room she doesn't recognize, a splitting headache making thought difficult. She moans and lifts her hand to press against the bridge of her nose, which is throbbing in sync with her temple, or tries to. She's fully awake in a second, pressing forward against the bindings keeping her tied to a chair, unable to fully process what's happening.

She looks around herself, panicked, and sees another person tied to a chair a couple of feet from where she is, unconscious. Even in the dim light, Brienne doesn't need much to recognize Jaime. He's slumped forward, his chin almost touching his sternum and his hair looks darker on the back of his head, matted against his skull with what Brienne suspects to be blood. 

She remembers then; she woke up at dusk, feeling slow and muzzy and still pissed about Jaime fucking Lannister. She had called Sansa to rant, but they must have been in the middle of the party because it rang and rang without answer. She didn't have better luck with Cat, so she had decided that the best way to deal with the anger and frustration was to go to their clearing and let thunder and lighting crash all around her. She had dressed in the most comfortable clothes she had, grabbed her hammer and gone down to her car. 

Halfway to the Old Gate Brienne had stopped in a red light, considering whether to get some caffeinated drink before she ended crashing her car mid-yawn. She had not seen the car that rear-ended her, it had come out of nowhere and she had no time to react. She'd hit her face against the steering wheel, the pain exploding on her face and blinding her and for a few seconds, she had lied there, feeling the blood running from her nose and too stunned to react. She had blinked and tried to remove her seatbelt, at the same time sounds and lights resolved again around her. The door to the car had opened, and she'd turned her face to see a balding man with a pointy goatee staring at her. She was going to ask for help getting out when the man spoke.

"Thith the big ugly bitch? Ramthay's bitch ith not here, he won't be happy." 

Brienne had started to struggle but something hard crashed against the side of her head and she knew no more.

_Ramsay_. She should have known, except she didn't. She knows Ramsay Bolton is a sadistic asshole who beats on his girlfriend, but this kind of attack is not something anyone sane would have expected. Why attack Brienne and Jaime? Why, when Sansa is not even in the city?

She turns to Jaime and extends one of her legs, they're long enough to reach him and Brienne pushes on his thigh. "Jaime," she hisses, barely audible, afraid to call the attention of whoever got them here. He doesn't stir and Brienne kicks him harder. "_Jaime_." He moans weakly, pained, and she feels terrible for causing him more pain but she needs him awake. She puts more force on her next kick and sees his eyelids fluttering open, another pained moan on his lips. "Jaime, wake up!"

"Brienne?" He asks, disoriented. "Why are you hitting me? What have I done wrong this time?" he says, his voice soft and pained, his head turning a bit in her direction. Brienne sees the confused frown on his face, his eyes unfocused where they try to look at her. He blinks slowly and she sees the exact moment his brain engages and he realizes something is wrong. He looks around, sharp eyes assessing their surroundings, and tries his bindings, finding himself as incapable of moving as her. "Oh fuck," he says, deep and heartfelt and so completely unsurprised. "_They were not supposed to come after you too_."

He starts struggling with his bindings again, futilely, Brienne has tested hers and whatever else the people who got them here are, they know how to tie a knot. He stops after a moment, and turn his head fully to Brienne, looking into her eyes. 

"What do you mean?" Brienne asks the instant he turns to her, not giving him the chance to say anything. "What do you mean after me _too_?" He drops his eyes, pushing against the rope again, his arms bulging with the effort. "You know who these guys are? You knew they were coming for us?" It's the only possible conclusion, but it makes no sense.

"Not us, _me_," he says, still not looking at her. "Bronn said Bolton wanted me dead, never said anything about you."

_Oh_. She's been an idiot, after all, but not for the reasons she thought. "That's the reason you disappeared, not because you _had marking to do_. Not because Sansa was gone. Not because you didn't want to spend time with me. Because you heard from your friend about Bolton." He shoots her a startled look, frowning like he can't believe that's what she thought. "You should have told me, I thought we were in this together."

He shakes his head. "No, because you don't know these men or what they do. If it had just been Bolton, yes. If it had just been about stalking Sansa, of course I'd tell you. But he these men are killers from Essos, and I didn't want you any closer to them than necessary." He looks at her very seriously. "I suspected they might try something and was glad to know Sansa was leaving, I'm sorry I didn't warn you so you could also get out."

Brienne glares at him. "Not get out, do something!" She hisses, trying to keep their voices low, though all she wants is to shout at him. And shake him out, which she'd do if she wasn't tied up. "Have you called the Gold Cloaks? Or the Kingsguard? You are a Lannister, you must have contacts. Or did you intend to just wait for them to kill you?"

He glares at her, angry and indignant, but she can see fear there and it stirs the same emotion in her.

"Of course not!" he replies, just as low and heated, but at least now he's back to looking at her in the eye. "I'm not an idiot. The Lannister name will not help here, I'm disowned remember? And my father works with Bolton. The Gold Cloaks are no use, they sell themselves cheap to people like this, but I have Bronn looking into it he has people and contacts of his own. He knows if I die he doesn't get paid. It's in his best interest to keep me alive." He doesn't sound as certain as his words imply, though. 

"But?"

"He was tailing Bolton and I got grabbed by the fat Dothraki, he might not know yet we're here." He looks at Brienne seriously. "_You're going to have to get us out._"

She must have heard that wrong. "In case you forgot, I'm as tied up as you are, " Brienne says in a harsh whisper, pulling on her bindings to illustrate the point.

"In case _you_ forgot," Jaime replies urgently giving her a pointed look. "You have a magic hammer and power over lightning and thunder."

She stares at him. She had forgotten, she's not yet used to that being a part of her life. "I don't know where Mjolnir is, I had it in the car with me, but I don't know where we are now."

"Don't worry about that, just concentrate as you've been doing and try to call it to you, distance should not matter." Easy for him to say, he's not the one suddenly responsible for their survival.

Brienne closes her eyes and thinks about it, the same way she always does, trying to feel its presence. Normally it's a buzzing in the back of her head, but now it's too far, she can't feel it. Maybe she's too anxious, or maybe it's just too far, but she can't feel it at all. 

She's about to tell him that when their luck finally runs out and the door opens, their _hosts_ coming inside the room.

First comes Ramsay Bolton, Brienne has forgotten how much she hates his smugly handsome face and dead sociopath eyes. She's overwhelmed with the urge to punch him again. There are three other guys with him, the one who got Brienne with the goatee and the lisp, a huge man with Dothraki looks who must be the one who got Jaime, and the last one wearing a stained pink and green shirt with terribly deranged eyes. She can see more people out of the door; if Jaime's friend was on his own, even if he's followed Bolton, he won't be of much help.

She needs to get them out.

"I seem to be missing someone, Hoat," Bolton says, looking disdainfully at Jaime and Brienne. "Where's my girlfriend?"

"Thhe wath thupposhed to be with the big bitch, you thaid," the goateed man with the lisp says, glaring at Brienne as if it's somehow her fault. "Shhe wathn't."

Bolton turns to Brienne. "I remember you, you were the one who took my girlfriend from home and hit me. These gentlemen here will show you what happens to people who cross me." The look the Dothraki and the other guy give her are telling enough, and Brienne feels a stab of pure terror at the idea. "But first, where's my Sansa? Call my girl and get her to come here."

Jaime shots her a pointed look before he opens his mouth to call all the attention to him. "Didn't she dump your ass for being the kind of coward that beats on girls, Bolton?" Jaime says, his voice full of arrogance and amusement, all eyes turn to him. Brienne swallows and focuses again, trying to feel that itch under her skin, the charge of electricity that has almost become familiar by now. "She's not your girlfriend anymore."

Bolton smiles at him, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "_Jaime Lannister,_ I already planned to pay you back for getting me expelled and shaming my family, but then you started panting after my girl, so now I'll hurt you before I kill you. _Where is she_?"

Jaime shrugs as much as he can. "Not here," he says in the same insouciant manner.

Bolton nods, still keeping the same creepy fake smile on his face. "I'm surprised Lannister, last I heard you liked women who beat you up, same as my girl likes her men. What do the two of you do together, take turns to hit each other?"

Jaime's facade cracks for a moment, the amusement gone and replaced by the kind of shame and anger Brienne has seen on Sansa's face sometimes. He recovers quickly, though, smoothing it out and looking at Bolton with distaste. "You're a disgusting piece of shit, Bolton, has anyone told you that? Is your cock so small the only way you can make a woman feel something is by hitting her? I don't have that problem, I can satisfy them enough with what I have."

Bolton narrows his eyes at him and looks to the side, to the Dothraki who advances and punches Jaime on the face, hard enough Brienne can hear the crack of bone and see blood streaming down his face from his nose. She struggles against her bindings, but Jaime cuts a look at her and she quiets down, fiding her focus again. She feels a spark of electricity when she looks at Jaime, fury and fear mingling inside of her.

"So it's only women you hit, Bolton, not strong enough for men? Afraid I won't feel it if it's you?" Jaime says with a chuckle, provoking and reckless, earning another hit for his troubles. He keeps laughing and taunting and Brienne wants him to shut up but knows what he's doing, he's keeping their attention from her so she can summon Mjolnir, he's giving her the time and space she needs, and yet Brienne still can't feel anything but the faintest of currents, can't help but feel like a failure as she watches Jaime being beaten and can't do anything to help. 

She wonders where that Bronn friend of Jaime's is, and hopes he's close and about to stop this since Brienne can't.

"Enough," Bolton says after a few minutes and the Dothraki takes a step back. Jaime sags against his bindings, his face a mess of blood, his eyes shining with pain but still defiant. He has not screamed the entire time, Brienne realizes, has kept a stream of laughs and taunts but has not screamed at all. "Untie him, bring him here." The Dothraki and Hoat drag Jaime to where Bolton is standing and Brienne is overwhelmed by a sense of urgency.

She can't let this happen. She can't let them kill him.

She needs the damned hammer in her hand now, before Bolton can kill Jaime. If she lets them why was she considered worthy of it? She closes her eyes and pushes everything down, reaching for the feeling, she can tell it's there, just out of reach but so tantalisingly close. She's feeling the static on the tip of her fingers, hears the distant crash of thunder. 

"Is this the hand you used to touch what's mine?" Bolton asks with a honey-sweet voice. Brienne opens her eyes to see Jaime on the floor, his right hand extended and Hoat and the other guy holding him while the Dothraki approaches with a knife. Bolton nods, and the knife comes down. 

Brienne sees it in slow motion, the point of the knife stabbed into Jaime's hand, hard enough to sink almost to the hilt and embed itself in the wooden flooring. Sees him pale with shock and pain, their eyes meeting for a suspended moment before the screams start. Hears the crackle of electricity, loud as a gunshot, and sees how every single eye in the room turns to her to see her standing now, her arms finally free, the rope that was binding her scorched and smoking on the floor, raw lightning crawling through her veins and all around her. Hears screams coming from the other side of the door but pays no attention to them until the door is blasted inwards and Mjolnir is finally, blessedly, in her hand. 

Brienne looks at Jaime, who smiles weakly at her and mouths _'magnificent'_, then she turns to Bolton and the other men. 

It's time to put into practice all his lessons.

…


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this one is done! A bit of fluff to end this universe because I'm going a bit heavy on the angst on the other one. Thanks so much to everyone who has commented and left kudos!

Jaime's in too much pain to fully enjoy the sight of Brienne clad in armour and lightning, eyes crackling with electricity and a furious snarl on her mouth. 

She really is magnificent, Jaime tries to smile at her and tell her that but no sound comes out of his mouth.

Bolton and his minions stare at her with shock, and then Hoat gets his wits back and Jaime sees a gun come up, pointing straight at Brienne. She sees it too, and as soon as she does she's twisting towards him, Mjolnir flying from her hand in a graceful arc. The rest of the men have recovered from the shock as well; Ramsay Bolton turns and runs out of the door like the coward he is, and Jaime tries to push himself to his feet and go after him, but the agony shooting up his right arm reminds him there is a good reason not to move. 

He takes a deep breath, swallowing the nausea at the sight of the knife spearing his hand. He can already tell the wound is bad, can't feel all his fingers. It might be that all he can feel now is pain, from both the beating he has just taken and the stab wound, but he's sure there will be nerve damage and at least some severed tendons. That fucker knew what he was doing when he stabbed him. 

Hoat crashes against a wall, his gun falling to the floor followed by his limp body, and the noise gets Jaime back into the present. He can't afford to drift like that, not now while Brienne is fighting. The Dothraki and the other man are advancing on her again, and Brienne is turning to them, undaunted, her hand extended to receive the hammer. She doesn't throw it this time, she finishes her turn with the grace of someone very aware of their body, the arc or her arm as she swings and connects with the Dothraki's bulging belly a thing of beauty. She doesn't use electricity, probably aware of the lethal potential of a wild charge, but sends him flying as if weighs nothing. 

She looks angry enough to fry one of these assholes by accident, so it's a good thing she has some restraint.

The last man jumps her, not showing the good sense to run away when faced with an enemy encased in lighting who has knocked his companions out in half a minute. He grabs her hair before she can turn to face him, his other hand on her throat, tight enough Jaime can see the impressions left by his fingers. Brienne's eyes open wide and panicked, and they search Jaime. He gives her a tiny nod and Brienne drops the hammer instead of trying to use it, spreads her hands and lets the electricity arc through her, shocking the man and sending him to the other side of the room, where he crumples. Unconscious, Jaime notes, not dead. Even in the heat of a fight, she's controlled perfectly the amount of electricity discharged not to kill, much as they deserve it. Jaime has never felt prouder of anyone. 

Brienne takes a deep breath, bends down to pick her hammer, and runs through the destroyed door after one last look at Jaime, her cape fluttering in her wake. 

Once she's gone, Jaime closes his eyes and lets the darkness take him. 

…

Jaime wakes up in the hospital and the only thing surprising about that is the person sitting by his bedside. 

He turns his head, feeling groggy with the number of drugs that must be on his system for him not to feel any pain, and frowns sharply at the woman reading a book sitting on the uncomfortable chair the hospital provides. She looks almost the same as he remembers, even if it's been close to a decade since he saw her last, regal and elegant and beautiful. There is a bit of silver in her auburn hair, and there are shadows under her blue eyes, her mouth soft and turned down at the corners. 

"Cat?" he croaks, his throat raw and painful. 

She looks up from her book and her expression softens when she sees him awake, a hint of a smile taking over her lips. She stands and grabs a glass from his bedside, holding the straw between his lips while Jaime drinks blessed, soothing water. "Welcome back, Jaime," she says, taking the glass from his lips and gently brushing his hair from his forehead. "You gave us quite a scare."

"Uh?" he replies intelligently, frowning up at her. "Why're you here? Where's Brienne?" The last thing he remembers is Brienne, clad in armour and electricity beating the shit out of the Bloody Mummers, and Ramsay Bolton running away. He smiles dreamily at the memory, she had looked so beautiful standing up from that chair, her eyes live wires.

"Sansa was right," Cat says, amused, taking him out of his memories. "_You are smitten_."

"_She's a goddess_, with the bluest eyes and the longest legs and the gentlest arms. She's so tall and strong, I want her in leather," he says, breathless while Cat laughs at him. He will blame the drugs later for loosening his tongue, but he's speaking the truth. "Where's my goddess?" he asks again. Cat has not given him any information and though the drugs are keeping Jaime relaxed, he can feel the stirring of fear not knowing what happened, and the lack of Brienne in the room is not helping matters. What if something happened to her? Bolton had more men past that door, and Jaime never saw a thing after she ran after him. He doesn't even know when was it, how long he's been here.

"It's been two days since you were admitted," Cat answers before he can voice the question, and he frowns, surprised. Two days? "Your hand required surgery, the trauma was extensive and included nerve damage and severed tendons. You'll have a long recovery ahead of you to regain use of it. I'm sorry." Nothing he had not guessed himself, though it's still a hard pill to swallow. He depends on his hand for work, though he can probably make a case now to get an assistant. "You also have a couple of broken ribs and a concussion from the beating you took. Brienne was frantic when they found you; you were unconscious and she couldn't wake you, and she feared you had internal bleeding. She was the one who performed first aid on you while your friend Bronn got an ambulance. She's been here since you were admitted, and so has been your brother. Sansa and I arrived a couple of hours ago, I had Sansa take Brienne home to get some sleep because she has to work tomorrow, and I sent Tyrion home as well."

He feels warmed by the fact that Brienne has been there the entire time. "Bolton?" he asks, needing to know what else happened. 

"In custody, and there is nothing his father can do to get him out after kidnapping and trying to kill a Lannister, even a disowned one," Cat says, satisfaction radiating out of her. "Roose is trying to salvage as much as he can of his reputation, but your father is not happy with them and is making things difficult if only to save face. That's what your brother told me, he's going to have words with you when he gets back," Jaime winces, not looking forward to it. Tyrion is going to want to know why Jaime didn't tell him anything but enlisted Bronn's help. He's in so much shit he might never hear the end of it. "After disposing of the three men responsible for your condition, she went after that toad Ramsay," Cat fixes him with a look. "You'll have to tell me how she did it, Brienne has been very sparse on the details, only saying she didn't do enough and took too long and you had to cover for her." 

That's not how Jaime remembers it, he remembers Brienne keeping her calm while Jaime ran his mouth to keep the Mummers' attention on him so she could summon Mjolnir. He had not expected to end up stabbed, but that isn't Brienne's fault. He'll make sure to tell her when she comes to visit him next time. 

If she comes.

"And Bronn?" He asks because Cat mentioned him but Jaime still doesn't know what part he played.

"Your friend had just arrived with the cavalry when Brienne followed Bolton. It seems he reached out to someone in the Kingsguard that owed him a favour. He's been saying you owe him a whole castle for this one, wife included. He's a charmer, that one," she adds, unable to keep the distaste from her expression.

Jaime laughs, regretting it immediately as it makes his chest explode in agony. Cat sighs and pushes him down on the bed. "Stay still and don't move. Sleep, you need to heal."

Jaime wants to protest, he has apparently been sleeping for two days, but this short conversation has wiped him out, so he just closes his eyes and allows sleep to come. 

…

The next time he wakes the light has changed and he feels a bit more clear-headed, there is a pinkish tint to the light which is probably the sunrise, and the chair next to his bed is empty. He's thirsty and his right hand is throbbing in pain, a sign that he needs more drugs. He turns his head looking for the button to call the nurse and finds it within reach of his right hand, which is messed up beyond belief and no help at all. 

He groans, gritting his teeth at the pain, and takes some deep breaths. 

The door opens then, and Jaime looks in time to see Brienne entering his room, dressed in surgical scrubs with messy hair and bags under her eyes. She's still the best thing he's seen and he smiles at her. 

"My hero," he says with a smile. Brienne startles seeing him awake and flushes a deep red that Jaime can't help but find compelling.

Brienne looks at him with a shocked expression, her shoulders hunch and she drops her eyes as she enters the room, closing the door quietly. "Don't call me that, _I'm not_ or you wouldn't be here," she says, softly approaching the foot of the bed. She grabs the chart and looks at it intently, paying excessive attention to something which must have not changed in two days. "How are you feeling, Jaime?"

"I'd feel better with more drugs," he says, sincerely, his hand is throbbing in time with his heartbeat and it's beginning to make him nauseous. 

She puts the chart back and goes around to his side, checking the IV and making disapproving noises under her breath. Jaime finds the severe line of her mouth where her lips are pursed to be unbearably charming, but he finds everything about her charming. 

"Your painkiller has run out, I'll get the nurse to bring a new one," she says, looking down at Jaime and quickly avoiding his eyes. She moves away and Jaime realizes she doesn't mean to stay with him.

"Stay?" he asks, sounding plaintive and pitiful. Maybe the drugs have not worn off so much.

Brienne's face softens a bit. "I have to start my rounds, I only came to check on you before my shift, but Tyrion will be here shortly." 

"But I like you better," Jaime pouts and Brienne blushes bright red.

"I'll come after my shift?" She says, sounding tentative, before walking out of the room.

Jaime's still staring dreamily at the sport where she was before when the nurse comes with more drugs.

He's floating in a cloud of morphine and good feelings when his brother arrives, enough that he doesn't care when Tyrion gives him a piece of his mind for keeping "The literal, real, goddess of thunder all for himself, what the fuck Jaime, I thought you were a good brother." and then spends a good hour laughing at Jaime for the sappy things he says about Brienne, and Brienne clad in leather and armour, and Brienne's eyes, and legs and everything. 

"It's a good thing she has to work, you're embarrassing," Tyrion says, amused. "But I'm happy for you."

"I think it's sweet, Brienne definitely deserves someone who likes her this much," Sansa says, and Jaime can't remember when Sansa and Cat arrived, but he's very happy to see them both and he tells them. He really likes Sansa, and she's so brave for having left Ramsay when she did, way braver than Jaime, it took him much too long to leave when it was him.

Sansa flushes and he realizes he's been speaking aloud, Cat approaches his bed and takes his hand. "You've been very brave as well, Jaime. Without you, Ramsay would still be free to chase my daughter."

They have come a long way from those days in Winterfell and Jaime's glad. "I like you, I like your eyes, they're very pretty, " he tells her. Cat's shoulders are shaking and she's biting her lips, her mouth stretched on a smile. Jaime smiles back at her and tells her very earnestly. "Though I like Brienne's better, they are the prettiest."

Cat's smile turns sly then. "You like Brienne, don't you?"

Jaime harrumphs. They have already established that. "Of course."

"Because she's Thor?" Cat says, and Jaime frowns. Why does everyone say that? He likes Thor because it's Thor and he likes Brienne because she's Brienne, with the eyes and the legs and the lips, and the fact that they happen to be the same only makes it better. But he'd like Brienne if she wasn't Thor, because of the eyes and the legs and the lips. And she's funny, and gentle and caring. Cat's eyebrows have been climbing up her forehead and yes, he's been speaking aloud again.

"I don't like this drugs," he pouts. "I babble and can't lie when I'm drugged."

Cat turns around, a smile like the cat who got the cream on her face. "_See, Brienne?_" Jaime follows her gaze and sees Brienne stopped at the door, her face so hot it looks like she's about to spontaneously combust. "Do you believe us now?"

Jaime flushes and squeezes Cat's hand, shooting her a betrayed look. She pats his hand and stands up smoothing his hair back once again. "I think you guys have to talk."

"He's high as a kite," Brienne protests, but she comes into the toom. 

"That way you will believe his words; you just heard him, he can't lie when he's drugged." Cat herds Sansa and Tyrion outside and Brienne takes the seat she has just vacated. 

"I'm sorry," Jaime says at the same time Brienne says the same. He frowns. "Why are you sorry?"

"For your hand, if I had been quicker they wouldn't have hurt you."

"You don't have to be sorry for that, the only person who has to be sorry for that is Bolton, and I hope you made him very sorry indeed."

Her lips curl in a half-smile. "Yes, I did. I might have dropped Mjolnir on his hand while we waited for the ambulance and the Gold Cloaks to arrive, with the Kingsguard there not even the most corrupt Gold Cloak would help Bolton."

"Thank you," he says sincerely. "You saved us."

Brienne blushes again. "Not fast enough."

It might be the drugs but suddenly Jaime needs to touch her, needs to reassure her, and he grabs her hand on his left one. Brienne startles but doesn't release his hand, a blush taking over her face.

"I wanted to ask you out before all this happened," he says. It's the truth, and he remembers what she said when they were tied together about him not wanting to spend time with her or him being after Sansa all along. And no, definitely he'd rather not think about how many creeps his age would go for someone like Sansa, pretty as she is. "But only if you like me." 

Brienne snorts. "You've seen yourself, haven't you?"

"That doesn't mean anything. My--" he stops himself before he can say too much, remembers that drugs loosen his tongue and he doesn't want to dump too much on Brienne. She's well in the past, where she belongs. "She was very pretty, and Ramsay Bolton was also very handsome. I don't like them. I like you, and if you like me I want to take you out. _Without the hammer_."

Brienne hasn't stopped blushing since she sat down. "I like you," she says, her voice soft and low, as if afraid to be overheard. 

Jaime beams at her. 

He feels his eyes slipping closed, too tired now. "As soon as I get out, then. I don't want to wait, I've waited too long already." He closes his eyes but refuses to release her hand, and tries to get into a more comfortable position. He squirms a bit on the bed, and thumps his head on the pillow, cracking his eyes open again at the soft chuckle coming from Brienne. She's staring at him with a soft fond smile and Jaime wants to kiss her like he hasn't wanted anything before. 

He opens his eyes again and looks at Brienne with a pout. "Help me?"

She stands from the chair and approaches the bed, releasing his hand. He misses the contact immediately. Brienne leans a bit and starts arranging the sheets and cover, smoothing them and tucking them tight around Jaime. He thumps his head on the pillow, and she leans a bit more to plump it, their faces close enough. 

Jaime smiles and leans up, capturing Brienne's lips with his for a beautiful, blissful moment. She opens her mouth in surprise, and he takes the chance to taste her, he darts his tongue inside and moans softly, using his hand to grip the back of her neck and push her even closer. 

"Ouch," he groans, pain exploding in his right hand, and falls down on the bed. 

Brienne is staring at him wide-eyed, her lips shiny and swollen, her cheeks a splotchy pink. Her mouth is twitching, as if not entirely sure of what she wants to do, frown annoyed at him or laugh at his antics. Laughter wins finally, and she leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to Jaime's lips before she sits down, grabbing his hand again. 

"Serves you well," she says, "for being so sneaky."

He would do it again. He will do it again, and soon, because Brienne has accepted to go on a date with him when he's released from the hospital, and now Jaime has tasted her he wants more. But that will have to wait until he's not so high on drugs, and they are out of here. 

They have time, though.

"It was worth the pain," he replies, closing his again to sleep. "You're worthy."

...


End file.
